This could be a fun thread with all the parents of young'uns we have around here.

I'll contribute from my house. This goes back many years, my daughter was three and her mother and I went away for the weekend with Grandma coming to babysit. Come Sunday, we are not yet home and Grandma says to my daughter "I wonder where they are"?

My daughter looks her right in the eye and says, "they're probly havin' sex Grandma".

We have no idea where she would have gotten the idea, and we never pushed it. But to say that Grandma was a bit taken aback would be severely understating it.

when little man shockey was 4, the rangers won the stanley cup. he was euphoric watching sportscenter the next morning.

"daddy, daddy!!" he excalimed. "the rangers won the standing cup!" ;D ;D ;D

well, it does sorta stand,, no?

oops, almos forgot: when little man was 6, we were at a friend's house. playing in the yard, an errant fribee toss landed in a tree. so we grabbed a football and tried knocking down the frisbee by throwing the football at it.

my attempt didn't come close to hitting any part of the tree or its branches. a little voice from the side says, in perfect sarcastic disdain, "nice fuckin' throw." : : :

clearly he'd watched too many games on tv with his dad and his dad's buds.

For the record, my name is Wendy. For the longest time, my cousin Abby couldn't get her tongue around the d, so she called me Winnie. Plus, if my mother (Mary) was with me and she was talking really fast, she'd call us Winnie and Minnie.

Now, her younger brother Chase calls me names that are similar to mine. I've been called Cindy, Mindy, etc.

I love both of them to death. The thing I love most is getting to hand them back to their mother.

The day Michael Jackson died, I sat down at the computer with my daughter in the room and saw the story. She saw that I was surprised and asked me what happened. I pointed to the (recent) picture on the computer and told her that he was a famous singer who died.

I may have shared this before, but it's still one of my all-time faves.

Little Bobcat was about 2. We had been leaning on him to eat fruits and vegetables, or "growing foods," as we called then. One day he finally relented and ate some peaches. That night he's in the bathtub and notices that his little solider has come to attention. He was sort of puzzled by this. Finally, a light bulb goes on and he says:

When he was 4, I took him grocery shopping. We're in the checkout line with a bunch of stuff when I ... broke wind. I tried to be discreet about it, but my son yelled, 'Daddy, you have to check the potty, right now! You have to go poopie!" in front of everyone.

I tried to tell him I could wait until after checkout, but he was insistent. Still, I got the groceries paid for, with a bit of embarrassment.

Second story, when the oldest was 5, he made a calendar in kindergarten class and brought it home in January. We put it on the fridge.